By Kielle ([email protected])
Rating: PG
Archival: Just ask.
Feedback: Please!
Disclaimer: Tolkien's are Tolkien's. I have, however, borrowed a name from DarkRiver's "Heirs Of Arda" (available at Morduin.com or here on FF.net under the name "DarkRiver") because I am fond of his continuity and decided it would be nice to tie into it.
Summary: Elphir, eldest son of Imrahil, must leave his wife and child with no hope that he will ever see them again. Set before the Battle of the Pelannor.
Author's Note: While helping research characters' ages for "Heirs Of Arda," I found that Prince Imrahil's three boys were old enough to ride off to war with him...and the eldest had a young child of his own when the War of the Ring took place. This little tale resulted. It's just fluff, really. I'm hoping to have the first canon!Elphir story up on the Internet. *G*
PS: I'm toying with the idea of making this part of a series called "Black Horizon" -- a collection of unusual perspectives on the final days of the War of the Ring. No guarantees, but it's a thought...what do you think?
"It is time, isn't it."
"There is no other way. I have told you this." Elphir looked up, over his son's curly head, to find his wife gazing down at him with her arms folded and her expression hard. He groaned. "Aeloth...there is no choice."
"There is a choice! There is always a choice! This is madness! Lord Imrahil--"
Elphir raised his voice to override her. "My father knows what he is doing. We cannot withhold a single fighting man. Gondor needs everything we have, and more."
"Oh, so Gondor would have our city turn itself inside out, leaving us defenseless against the corsairs? Does Denethor have so little regard for his allies that he would use them up like firewood to buy a mere day or two against the dark...?!"
Belatedly, to restrain herself, Aeloth bit her lip and glanced through the seaward window. The day was bright and clear; seagulls screamed serenely over the bayside harbors of Belfalas. "Stay, love. Stay and protect us. We are not staring into the very jaws of the Black Land -- we still have a chance. Minas Tirith is lost. Everyone knows this. Why won't your father believe that?"
"A chance? To do what? To kneel at the Southrons' feet, to be claimed as spoils of war by the traitors of Umbar?" Elphir retorted fiercely. His arms tightened around his son, and the toddler squeaked indignantly. "I would cut Alphros' throat with my own bare hands before I let him be taken by those filthy slavers!"
"By leaving us here alone," Aeloth said softly, still gazing out the window, "you may well be leaving that terrible task in my hands." She looked back at him, her grey eyes bright with tears she was too proud to shed. "You will not return, and this fate will come to pass regardless of how many brave Amrothians fall before the gates of the White City. Please, husband. Do not make me beg. Defy your father. Stay."
Stay here to die at my side. The words trembled unspoken on the sea breeze between them
Elphir was silent, resting his forehead amid his son's rust-colored curls, his own long dark hair hiding his expression. Then he stood, lifting Alphros into the crook of his arm. The boy was getting restless, and eager for his mother's attention; when Elphir gathered his reluctant wife into his other arm, the child squealed with delight and grabbed a handful of her dress. She could not pry his chubby fingers loose without seeming cruel and cold. After a moment she sighed and leaned her head against her husband's shoulder.
"You are leaving, and nothing I have said has made any difference," she said wearily.
"I must go," he replied, with a kiss on her forehead. "Just as you must hold out hope as long as you can. If I do not return...if none of us return...Alphros will be the last of my line. The last Prince of Dol Amroth." His arm tightened around her, pressing her close. "You will keep him safe, at any cost. I don't need to ask -- I know you will."
Her shoulders quivered under his arm. "At any cost? Only a man would say such a thing so lightly."
Elphir paled. "Aeli, I did not mean--"
"I know what you meant. Forgive me. I am frightened, and I become shrewish when I am afraid." She glanced up and caught the look in his eyes before he could mask it. "However, I do not think I am the only frightened one in this room..."
He chuckled weakly, settling his cheek against the crown of her head. "Only a woman would believe, even for an instant, that a man riding off to nigh-certain doom is not terrified out of his wits." He breathed in the scent of her, storing every detail away in his heart for the long days ahead. "I go not because I do not love you but because, whatever happens, I know you will stand fast until I return."
"Me?" Aeloth laughed a fragile ironic laugh. "Against all the hordes arrayed against us...?"
Elphir released her so he could tip her chin up with one hand and kiss her. One last time, he thought bleakly. Then he shifted the fussing child into her arms and stepped back. "Of course I do. Would I be brave enough to ride away to war otherwise? If I did not have such faith in your strength, I could not leave you. I would sweep you up onto my horse and gallop away into the hills and hide in a cave until the world came to an end."
"That is not such a bad idea." Her tone was briefly playful. "I am tempted. But...we cannot, and I understand. I do not like this necessity, and I do not agree with it, but...you would not be the man I love if you could so easily be swayed from your honor. "
"Thank you. I would not have our leavetaking end in harsh words." Impulsively, he stole another kiss from her even as he touched their son's cheek with one hand. "Look after Lothiriel too, if you would? She is frightened, and she is so young..."
Aeloth raised an eyebrow, securing the toddler more firmly against her hip. "Young she may be, but your sister is made of the same stubborn stuff as you. She and I shall manage as well as can be until the darkness falls, never you fear that.
"But what is this! A moment ago you could not wait to leave, and now you hesitate? Can you not hear the trumpets below?!" Unhappiness still lurked in the depths of her eyes, and her hands were clasped white-knuckled under the baby's rump, but she shed no tears and her smile was brave. "Off with you, now! Go to your glory-besotted father. While you play hero with those good-for-nothing brothers of yours, we women have much real work to do."
She spoke almost idly now, barely containing an ironic quirk of mirth. "We shall have plenty of time to shout and curse and hurl dishes at each other when you have returned, you and I."
Elphir guffawed, surprised that she'd been able to coax humor from such a dour morning. "I will hold you to that, my wife!"
"And I will hold you to that."
"To what?"
Aeloth's teasing smirk softened. "That you will return."
Swallowing hard around the sudden lump in his throat, he bowed low to her even as he caught up his saddlebags. "I will."
And then he was gone.